The FUNTASTIC adventures of Zenitora and Urami
by Axenblade
Summary: CHAPTER 2 IS UP! Everyone's favourite Orange skinned crook and his lolita cohort in their own story! WOOT HOORAY!
1. Chapter 1

_-Truth be told, I have never played Phoenix Wright in my life (this will become apparent when you read this fic), but thought the artwork was pretty and, thanks to finding a few good sites, fell in love with the characters that will be involved in this story. If they are not in character, then GOOD, if they are, then isn't it scary that I judge so well on first apperances?_

_Also, I'm dressed like Mr. Wright right now, except I'm not wearing any trousers, CRAZY HUH?_

_Anyway, yes, the fanfic, it's juuuuust about done... well, the first chapter anyways, you think I'm letting you off -that- easy? Ho-nonono..._

_Read on...-_

It had been a quiet day at the Kariyooze, people becoming wise to this feeding pool of gangsters and the loan shark that inhabited it's walls, the faint sound of music ebbing through the walls of the back office, which is where the story will have to proceed to actually advance the plot any further, so we shall.

So as the plot advances ever so slightly, the scene changes to one completely different, maybe even two of the reasons that the loan shop was so quiet; firstly, there was a small, feminine coloured radio balanced dangerously on the corner of a solid cherrywood desk, it's bubblegum corner teetering from the heavy woods, loveingly laquered to a jet shine and then assaulted with the various circles of mug and beercan abuse, liquid residue streaking its maltreated surfaces as it continued to hold the small music device precariously. Now you've spent some time imaging this radio and it's placement, imagine the horror, if you will, of this small device, not only being horrific in colour and placing also being being horrific in it's musical tastes; the wailing of what could only be assumed as two actors, probably magnificent in their own respects, doing what most have tried and failed in their attemtptingin show business; the were attempting to multitask, in this case in the acting, singing and 'still attempting to look glamourous at the same time' deparment.

That's right, it was blaring out the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, 'Elephant Melody' to be precise.

What was even more frightening was a man with dark spiky hair, a red tiger shirt, and a very orange tan was avidly dancing to it, using his chair as a prop to peform spinning motions, half pirolettes and occasionaly act as a dance partner, theatrical movements and overly flamboyant hand gestures about the air like birds flailing around in a whilwind, the mismatched lyrics mimed approximatley 5 seconds too late as he continued to dance around, pelvic thrusting now added to the drawling drumbeats of the backing tracks.

A truely horrifying scene I assure you.

Thankfully for you dear reader, the door opened with a loud clatter, not to stop what was going on, but for the fact that the frail raven haired girl that had just entered had to use her foot for the opening of the door, a metal tray in her hands, still red with heat. She had obviously returning from the café 'Trés Bien' not far away from the loaning office, the abrupt entrance throwing the previous eyesore into a state of fluster and high pitched man-screaming

"Urami!!" He man-screamed, no other word describing his vocal pitch better at this point in time "Did you see anything!?"

"I got this from the cafe" she stated blandly, compeletey disreagarding the man's screeching inquisition "I think the chef likes you."

"Ha! Likes me right down to my orange tanned ass."

"I think that was what I was implying."

"... Oh well, maybe later, whatever, I need to ask you somethi- Aw shit the music got depressing."

The young woman sighed in reply, her partner's A.D.D. kicking in as he punted the radio out of the window, giving a loud exclain of "WHEE!!" as it hit a small child in the side of the head, the sounds of the 42-car pile up the concussed child caused as it fell into the busy roadway apparent as the large male signalled the smaller woman over, her lips twitching something terribly as she walked over, tray still clutched in her talon-like grip and the smell of burning now emanating throughtout the room.

"Hey Urami." The tangerine man questioned, a distinctive snort announcing he was sniffing the air "What's that smell coming from your fingers?"

"Porkchop sandwiches" she replied blandly.

"Fuck Yeah." He replied, taking this time to sit down on the leather chair accompanying his desk "I _lurve_ sandwiches."

"Shouldn't we be heading toward the location now Zenitora-sama?" She asked, giving the reader a final chance figure who this guy is, as it was obvious you weren't going to from what he had been doing previously, unless of course you've played Phoenix Wright... he is the only one with the same colour skin as the backside of an Orangutang.

"That was slightly harsh on my part wasn't it?" Zenitora wined slightly, his hair drooping, it's self confidence deflated somewhat; it wasn't orange, it was black, black as the firey pits of hell, which now it though about it, were probably more orangey red than black as they were firey, so that was more describing of it's master's vividly tanned body once again, though in a somewhat more impressive way than the authour had managed...

Oh how the tresses despised this story, giving it more intelligence than it's master was somewhat degrading in it's own twisted way.

"Great... my hair's a fuckin' EMO."

It was jogged from it's thoughts by the ecstatic cry of "SQUEE", that annoying, end-splittingly screechy tone that this hulk of a man seem to emit so easily in this fanfic oozed from the male's mouth as Zenitora dove at his assistant eagerly, equipping himself with his tangerine suit pants and tanned shoes she had been holding and left, leaving the poor girl to come to, rip her hands from the still smoldering tray and pull all the blueberry pie from he tight, lolita-like blouse all in the space of a five second pause before following behind her accomplice, blueberry still around her lips from the cleaning process as she sauntered out of office, one last raven hair flick and look over her shoulder to inform us of their fiendish and suspicious plots for the future.

Presumably, that, or she just really likes cameras.

"It's a little bit of both" she replied, a tint of a selective seducing tone as she closed the door on the reader and, ultimatley, on the end of this chapter.

Fear the symbolism.

_-Well... this was actually quite fun... didn't make me sleepy like I thought it would, just made me take off mah pants, but I digress, it was fun all the same. _

_Next chapter up during my next insomnia period. Godot's in it, so you'll all love it, I promise._

_...And I just realised that nothing actually -happens- in this chapter per sé._

_WHEE!!! Zenitora would be so proud!!-_


	2. Chapter 2 Now with Screen Transitions!

_Yeah, who'da thunk it? I did actually sit down and write more._

_GO ME :D _

It was a beautiful sunnny day, so blissfully bright in fact, that the third 'n' in sunny was intended. The sky was blue, the birds were singing and Zenitora was blinding many an innocent motorist with his overzealous suntan, reflecting bountiful sunlight through their windscreens. The café 'Trés Bein' now within sight as they rounded a corner...

If there is a corner there, I still haven't played Phoenix Wright yet, but I did learn to spell it.

"Good for you." Zenitora concluded, wanting to congradulate his author on improving their intelligene to an almost acceptable standard, maybe now they could get a job and get their own computer instead of relying on sleepovers and memory sticks to write these bloody stories.

It was here the author realised that Zenitora was rather self indulgent in his congradulatory endeavour and upped the gesture by making him fall flat on his face, and he did so fantastically...

Imagine a turtle, not a cute little turtle that you find in petshops, but a big frikken turtle, like those ones that you see on wildlife shows that are trying to run away from the people who are talking about them only to walk into the camera because they can't steer properly, those turtles that aren't actually called turtles but torttekoises as the author found out after just looking them up on wikipedia...

Now imagine our humorously coloured hero walking happily, ok, maybe not happily... more like a contempt gait, a little bit of an arrogant swagger accompanying those calmed steps as he carries on giving a somewhat backhanded compliment when this turtle, this 'tortoise', this... thing, falls on his foot, not just falling from a small height, but from the nearby skyscraper, or at least a very tall building, a cry of "TREE-FIDDEH!!" cascading from the 37th floor as the tortoise's brightly coloured shell nose dives towards our intrepid duo, a rainbow of colours and 'Hello Kitty' stickers haphazardly plastered to the shell, some of the older stickers start to flap and peel away as the G-force takes hold.

And then it landed on his foot. Hard. Really really hard, like someone had just taken a mallet to it.

"You sonnava-FUCK!!" Before he could finish his sentence, he was over, now taking the tortoise with him, his high-pitched man screams drowned out slightly as the sounds of 'Sex and the City' blared from Urami's mini televsion bracelets.

"Oh Samatha..." The raven haired beauty chuckled, as if talking to a dear friend "You dirty, dirty whore..."

Character change, because stars are FUN

It was the bottom of the ninth, the corn dogs were sloppy and there were more hookers than a night out at Hooters.

"DAMN RIGHT KEITH!!"

Yeah, thanks Yogi.

Anyway, none of the above really matters, as the real action was in the court room, where Miles Edgeworth was measuring his wits against his court rival Phoenix Wright.

"OBJECTION!!" Edgeworth said in a slightly louder British type voice than usual, his ruff quivering with aniticipation as he had to duck the obscenely large and obnoxious writing that flew across the courtroom whenever an objection was uttered, succeeding only in giving Maya a good sounding 'thwap!' in the face, but apart from that nothin good seemed to come from it... it usually meant that accursed Wright had won the case.

But Edgeworth had a plan. One that was, quite frankly, the mother of all plans.

"I call my mother to the stand!!"

Oh yes, the mother of all plans was about to unfold.

With a flash, Edgeworth ducked under his bench and from out of nowhere a crazy-assed lady popped up, her crazy grey hair asunder and her fringe a strangley black contrast. She straightened herself up slightly, an orange falling from her strangley familiar magenta suit jacket, one of her breasts seemingly dissapearing as it did so.

"Wow..." Gumshoe whispered, giving a quick nudge to Mike Meekins, who had managed to hancuff himself to his own megaphone backwards "Edgeworth's mom is HOT!!"

This earned the strangest look Meekins had ever given someone towards Gumshoes person; it was a cross between disbelief and what looked to be constipation, or the complete opposite, like Meekins had just soiled himself and was rather surprised, or thankful for the whole process. Maybe even a bit of both, it was a rather drafty courtroom.

"I was at the murder scene!!" The woman shrieked in a high pitched tone, very similar to when you give a man a good boot to the testicles, or the heel of a good firm stiletto in round abouts the same area "I saw who did it!!"

"Leik OMG Whos was it ROFL!!?" Some random guy shouted from the crowd, seeming to be overly into the whole court case, or just overly into be used as a chair for a better looking woman of a possibly higher social status

"IT WAS HIM!!" Edgeworth's 'mother' shrieked, pointing at the Judge. The crowd was in uproar, so much so that Meekins was thrown to the other side of the courtroom... That or Gumshoe just realised one the reasons The patrolman's face was contorted in such a fashion.

"Order order in my courtroom!!" The judge bellowed, slamming his gavel down once, then 3 times as the blurry gobules of light and dark blues and skintone started moving erratically and murmuring insued, meaning that obviously the court was in uproar "You will respect my authority or face the consquences!!" His words were strong and true, proving the point truer still by throwing the mall hammer in a sideward arc, somehow curving the throw to backhand the now somewhat concious Maya and still make its way back to his hand in a surperb boomerangesque fashion. It was really a sight to behold. He got 3 votes of 10 for the execution.

"Anyway, this is decisive evidence!!" Edgeworth declared, his ruff vibrating manically as he was now back at his desk after his strange dissapearence, casually snacking on an orange whilst tucking a few grey hairs into his magenta blazer "This only goes to stregnthen my case that..." He looked down, his face paling as a horrible realisation crept into the corners of his mind, his pupils dilating as he saw an almost manical grin spread across the Defense's face; even now there was one thing stopping Edgeworth from winning this case, one small thing that was going to haunt Edgeworth for the rest of his career, and that accursed Wright had known about it ever since he had entered the courtroom...

"OHMIGOD THIS ISN'T A CRAVAT, IT'S A FLUFFY PIRAHNAAAAAARGH!!!!" He screamed as it attacked, Pheonix already pumping his fists in victory while make a large array of hand gestures towards Edgeworth's person. He'd done it again, pulled the cat out of the bag, the rabbit ou tof the hat for his grand finale... The bastard.

"WRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!" was all that was heard as the piranah attacked Edgeworth's chislled good looks, the sound emanting from the mauling sounding somewhat like a buzzsaw

"Well, I guess that means you win then Mr. Wright, anyone for tea?"

Back with our Heroes...

"FOR THE LAST TIME DAMMIT-" Zenitora man screamed over the scene transition "-WE ARE 'ANTI-PROTAGANISTS!!"

"You mean, we're heroes that don't want to be heroes?" Urami questioned, self self afflicted staus on her person puzzling her somewhat "Or are we heroes that aren't heroes?"

"Does it matter?" Zenitora asked in the same puzzled tone, now removing himself from the turtle "I said that at least a sentence ago." He paused for a moment "...3 lines if you think about the authour tendencies of missing a line when two or more people are talking with any cuts of prose."

"A somewhat admirable trait..." Urami complimented, her raven hair caressing her cheek as she look to her companion as he rose "It makes the text easier to read."

"Someones kissing ass today" came the sly reply, the tangerine man commented, brushing the dust from his suit

"Well I'm not the one falling over turtles."

"... Low blow bitch... LUH-OH-BLOW."

"Anyways..." The slender vixen continued turning away from her counterpart casually "Weren't we supposed to be acting out an evil plan of some sort?"

"I think so.." The Orangutang of a man answered her question whilst strengthing his stride to catch up to her, her person already a little way down the street "Something like that was hinted last chapter..."

The duo stood in the street for could have been an eternity or a second, the street went so still the moment was lost in time, even the man in the backdrop stood frozen as not to spoil the drama of the shot.

"I bet you 5 buck we don't even mention this plan again 'till chapter 5." Our Noir little heronie jeered

"Chapter 5 huh? Well, well, well..." Came the somewhat cooed response, Kansai tones flaring against the soft motions of his palette "You've got high hopes for this fanfic."

Turning back to the sidewalk, Zenitora started up his stride, pushing the polite onlooker mention earlier into oncoming traffic, apparently a somewhat backhanded gesture of thanks, claiming it later to be 'a sympathetic pat on the pack of a distraugh and somewhat suicidal man' in his testimony to police, though it's unclear whether that'll happen in this fic, maybe later, when more of a plot has been established...

"Again, high hopes for this fanfic."

It was at this time that Zenitora fell over another decorative turtletoise, man screaming as he forward rolled down the sidewalk to the Hardware store, where they were heading anyway. there were heading there for supplies for their nefarious scheme. It was nefarious because that word is just fantastic, and I'm pretty sure it means evil at any rate.

"Close enough." Shrugged Urami as she followed her neon comrade, his tan like a beacon now shining someway down the path, passing a small greasy spoon on her nefarious way...

Nng-heh "Nefarious"

In The Greasy Spoon

Godot was in this greasy spoon, a coffee on the table beside him, the pristine white of the mug a contrast to its grubby surrounds, the dark liquid inside almost having a deeper, more sensual meaning than the writer cares to think about, the author being more one for physichal and simple humour, rather some dry and witty observation.

Anyway, this was a coffee, americano, black with no sugar. Just the way I'm sure he liked it, not 100 though, but hey, the man's deep, he wear a friggin' visor for god sake, most men would've just gone for a pair of shades and the double eyepatch gig. He went the whole friggen hog and all her little piggies. To go, with fries on the side big mama.

At this point Godot realised this was starting to sound a bit like one of those old P.I. movies, the black and white ones, where the decetives are all real ugly, but always seem to get the girls, and they call every woman a dame, and they always use fragmented sentences, like a thick fog fragments the air, and they always use lines like the one previous. He liked that, and decided to keep the mood going, it made him feel all kindsa fancy, like a rich dame on shoppin' day.

The coffee was still there, still black and still sour. He was waiting for someone, someone with info, someone in the know, someone who fit the surrounds like a flea on a dog...

Some with a trenchcoat and stubble.

That someone entered the café, that someone obviously Detective Dick Gumshoe.

"Hey pal." He called as he was waved over, holding an autopsy envelope "I got those old files you wanted."

"Gee, thanks chum." Godot replied, the above demeanor still acting on his vocal chords slightly, giving his voice a distinct Clint Eastwood quality "Why don'tcha sid'down and we'll look over those files?"

It was at this point that Gumshoe forgot how to sit down, or do pretty much anything in general that didn't involve lunging forward, which he knew would probably be foolish, the resulting action seemed to be painful in Gumshoe's mind, especially after if something happened to that coffee; it looked pretty symbolic right now, that and Godot was staring at it intently, like it held the answers of the universe.

He couldn't let a prosecutor down now, but he didn't want admit this embarrassing and somewhat frequent problem of his in public...

There was only one thing for it...

He jumped backwards, using the same lunging motion on himself, which would've worked great if he hadn't been opposite a travelling trampoline salesman, the large array of stretched fabric on his back sending the officer careering forward, though the window and flat out onto the pavement, like a drunk at a bar.

Then Godot hit him in the head by a turtle with a somewhat effemanite throw, a small little "Thunk" sound emitting from the sprawled man's noggin.

Oh how the author loved physical humour.

_Said Godot'd be in it didn't I? I try not to dissapoint... myself, I try not to dissapoint myself..._

_ANYWAY!! This is the second, slightly longer chapter on TFAOZAU, which, if you say that quickly, it sounds like some sort of thai rice dish, or a breed of dog, but I digress, thank you my loyal one reader (I know who you are you crazy watcher XD ) I'll admit, you are one of the reasons I actually did a second chapter!! Damn you, now I need to make up a storyline!!_

_Naw, loves to everyone, sorry this took so long to get up, but I now work bizarro shift at my workplace and the boss is a wierdo, so it has taken this long, not to mention the fact of life got in the way, curse it._

_But yes, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll get started on the 3rd... once i figure out what's gonna go in it... (Yes, there actually is a story to this) _


	3. This chapter is coming soon

It was a beautiful sunnny day, so blissfully bright in fact, that the third 'n' in sunny was intended. The sky was blue, the birds were singing and Zenitora was blinding many an innocent motorist with his overzealous suntan, reflecting bountiful sunlight through their windscreens. The café 'Trés Bein' now within sight as they rounded a corner...

If there is a corner there, I still haven't played Phoenix Wright yet, but I did learn to spell it.

"Good for you." Zenitora concluded, wanting to congradulate his author on improving their intelligene to an almost acceptable standard, maybe now they could get a job and get their own computer instead of relying on sleepovers and memory sticks to write these bloody stories.

It was here the author realised that Zenitora was rather self indulgent in his congradulatory endeavour and upped the gesture by making him fall flat on his face, and he did so fantastically...

Imagine a turtle, not a cute little turtle that you find in petshops, but a big frikken turtle, like those ones that you see on wildlife shows that are trying to run away from the people who are talking about them only to walk into the camera because they can't steer properly, those turtles that aren't actually called turtles but torttekoises as the author found out after just looking them up on wikipedia...

Now imagine our humorously coloured hero walking happily, ok, maybe not happily... more like a contempt gait, a little bit of an arrogant swagger accompanying those calmed steps as he carries on giving a somewhat backhanded compliment when this turtle, this 'tortoise', this... thing, falls on his foot, not just falling from a small height, but from the nearby skyscraper, or at least a very tall building, a cry of "TREE-FIDDEH!!" cascading from the 37th floor as the tortoise's brightly coloured shell nose dives towards our intrepid duo, a rainbow of colours and 'Hello Kitty' stickers haphazardly plastered to the shell, some of the older stickers start to flap and peel away as the G-force takes hold.

And then it landed on his foot. Hard. Really really hard, like someone had just taken a mallet to it.

"You sonnava-FUCK!!" Before he could finish his sentence, he was over, now taking the tortoise with him, his high-pitched man screams drowned out slightly as the sounds of 'Sex and the City' blared from Urami's mini televsion bracelets.

"Oh Samatha..." The raven haired beauty chuckled, as if talking to a dear friend "You dirty, dirty whore..."

Character change, because stars are FUN

It was the bottom of the ninth, the corn dogs were sloppy and there were more hookers than a night out at Hooters.

"DAMN RIGHT KEITH!!"

Yeah, thanks Yogi.

Anyway, none of the above really matters, as the real action was in the court room, where Miles Edgeworth was measuring his wits against his court rival Phoenix Wright.

"OBJECTION!!" Edgeworth said in a slightly louder British type voice than usual, his ruff quivering with aniticipation as he had to duck the obscenely large and obnoxious writing that flew across the courtroom whenever an objection was uttered, succeeding only in giving Maya a good sounding 'thwap!' in the face, but apart from that nothin good seemed to come from it... it usually meant that accursed Wright had won the case.

But Edgeworth had a plan. One that was, quite frankly, the mother of all plans.

"I call my mother to the stand!!"

Oh yes, the mother of all plans was about to unfold.

With a flash, Edgeworth ducked under his bench and from out of nowhere a crazy-assed lady popped up, her crazy grey hair asunder and her fringe a strangley black contrast. She straightened herself up slightly, an orange falling from her strangley familiar magenta suit jacket, one of her breasts seemingly dissapearing as it did so.

"Wow..." Gumshoe whispered, giving a quick nudge to Mike Meekins, who had managed to hancuff himself to his own megaphone backwards "Edgeworth's mom is HOT!!"

This earned the strangest look Meekins had ever given someone towards Gumshoes person; it was a cross between disbelief and what looked to be constipation, or the complete opposite, like Meekins had just soiled himself and was rather surprised, or thankful for the whole process. Maybe even a bit of both, it was a rather drafty courtroom.

"I was at the murder scene!!" The woman shrieked in a high pitched tone, very similar to when you give a man a good boot to the testicles, or the heel of a good firm stiletto in round abouts the same area "I saw who did it!!"

"Leik OMG Whos was it ROFL!!?" Some random guy shouted from the crowd, seeming to be overly into the whole court case, or just overly into be used as a chair for a better looking woman of a possibly higher social status

"IT WAS HIM!!" Edgeworth's 'mother' shrieked, pointing at the Judge. The crowd was in uproar, so much so that Meekins was thrown to the other side of the courtroom... That or Gumshoe just realised one the reasons The patrolman's face was contorted in such a fashion.

"Order order in my courtroom!!" The judge bellowed, slamming his gavel down once, then 3 times as the blurry gobules of light and dark blues and skintone started moving erratically and murmuring insued, meaning that obviously the court was in uproar "You will respect my authority or face the consquences!!" His words were strong and true, proving the point truer still by throwing the mall hammer in a sideward arc, somehow curving the throw to backhand the now somewhat concious Maya and still make its way back to his hand in a surperb boomerangesque fashion. It was really a sight to behold. He got 3 votes of 10 for the execution.

"Anyway, this is decisive evidence!!" Edgeworth declared, his ruff vibrating manically as he was now back at his desk after his strange dissapearence, casually snacking on an orange whilst tucking a few grey hairs into his magenta blazer "This only goes to stregnthen my case that..." He looked down, his face paling as a horrible realisation crept into the corners of his mind, his pupils dilating as he saw an almost manical grin spread across the Defense's face; even now there was one thing stopping Edgeworth from winning this case, one small thing that was going to haunt Edgeworth for the rest of his career, and that accursed Wright had known about it ever since he had entered the courtroom...

"OHMIGOD THIS ISN'T A CRAVAT, IT'S A FLUFFY PIRAHNAAAAAARGH!!!!" He screamed as it attacked, Pheonix already pumping his fists in victory while make a large array of hand gestures towards Edgeworth's person. He'd done it again, pulled the cat out of the bag, the rabbit ou tof the hat for his grand finale... The bastard.

"WRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!" was all that was heard as the piranah attacked Edgeworth's chislled good looks, the sound emanting from the mauling sounding somewhat like a buzzsaw

"Well, I guess that means you win then Mr. Wright, anyone for tea?"

Back with our Heroes...

"FOR THE LAST TIME DAMMIT-" Zenitora man screamed over the scene transition "-WE ARE 'ANTI-PROTAGANISTS!!"

"You mean, we're heroes that don't want to be heroes?" Urami questioned, self self afflicted staus on her person puzzling her somewhat "Or are we heroes that aren't heroes?"

"Does it matter?" Zenitora asked in the same puzzled tone, now removing himself from the turtle "I said that at least a sentence ago." He paused for a moment "...3 lines if you think about the authour tendencies of missing a line when two or more people are talking with any cuts of prose."

"A somewhat admirable trait..." Urami complimented, her raven hair caressing her cheek as she look to her companion as he rose "It makes the text easier to read."

"Someones kissing ass today" came the sly reply, the tangerine man commented, brushing the dust from his suit

"Well I'm not the one falling over turtles."

"... Low blow bitch... LUH-OH-BLOW."

"Anyways..." The slender vixen continued turning away from her counterpart casually "Weren't we supposed to be acting out an evil plan of some sort?"

"I think so.." The Orangutang of a man answered her question whilst strengthing his stride to catch up to her, her person already a little way down the street "Something like that was hinted last chapter..."

The duo stood in the street for could have been an eternity or a second, the street went so still the moment was lost in time, even the man in the backdrop stood frozen as not to spoil the drama of the shot.

"I bet you 5 buck we don't even mention this plan again 'till chapter 5." Our Noir little heronie jeered

"Chapter 5 huh? Well, well, well..." Came the somewhat cooed response, Kansai tones flaring against the soft motions of his palette "You've got high hopes for this fanfic."

Turning back to the sidewalk, Zenitora started up his stride, pushing the polite onlooker mention earlier into oncoming traffic, apparently a somewhat backhanded gesture of thanks, claiming it later to be 'a sympathetic pat on the pack of a distraugh and somewhat suicidal man' in his testimony to police, though it's unclear whether that'll happen in this fic, maybe later, when more of a plot has been established...

"Again, high hopes for this fanfic."

It was at this time that Zenitora fell over another decorative turtletoise, man screaming as he forward rolled down the sidewalk to the Hardware store, where they were heading anyway. there were heading there for supplies for their nefarious scheme. It was nefarious because that word is just fantastic, and I'm pretty sure it means evil at any rate.

"Close enough." Shrugged Urami as she followed her neon comrade, his tan like a beacon now shining someway down the path, passing a small greasy spoon on her nefarious way...

Nng-heh "Nefarious"

In The Greasy Spoon

Godot was in this greasy spoon, a coffee on the table beside him, the pristine white of the mug a contrast to its grubby surrounds, the dark liquid inside almost having a deeper, more sensual meaning than the writer cares to think about, the author being more one for physichal and simple humour, rather some dry and witty observation.

Anyway, this was a coffee, americano, black with no sugar. Just the way I'm sure he liked it, not 100 though, but hey, the man's deep, he wear a friggin' visor for god sake, most men would've just gone for a pair of shades and the double eyepatch gig. He went the whole friggen hog and all her little piggies. To go, with fries on the side big mama.

At this point Godot realised this was starting to sound a bit like one of those old P.I. movies, the black and white ones, where the decetives are all real ugly, but always seem to get the girls, and they call every woman a dame, and they always use fragmented sentences, like a thick fog fragments the air, and they always use lines like the one previous. He liked that, and decided to keep the mood going, it made him feel all kindsa fancy, like a rich dame on shoppin' day.

The coffee was still there, still black and still sour. He was waiting for someone, someone with info, someone in the know, someone who fit the surrounds like a flea on a dog...

Some with a trenchcoat and stubble.

That someone entered the café, that someone obviously Detective Dick Gumshoe.

"Hey pal." He called as he was waved over, holding an autopsy envelope "I got those old files you wanted."

"Gee, thanks chum." Godot replied, the above demeanor still acting on his vocal chords slightly, giving his voice a distinct Clint Eastwood quality "Why don'tcha sid'down and we'll look over those files?"

It was at this point that Gumshoe forgot how to sit down, or do pretty much anything in general that didn't involve lunging forward, which he knew would probably be foolish, the resulting action seemed to be painful in Gumshoe's mind, especially after if something happened to that coffee; it looked pretty symbolic right now, that and Godot was staring at it intently, like it held the answers of the universe.

He couldn't let a prosecutor down now, but he didn't want admit this embarrassing and somewhat frequent problem of his in public...

There was only one thing for it...

He jumped backwards, using the same lunging motion on himself, which would've worked great if he hadn't been opposite a travelling trampoline salesman, the large array of stretched fabric on his back sending the officer careering forward, though the window and flat out onto the pavement, like a drunk at a bar.

Then Godot hit him in the head by a turtle with a somewhat effemanite throw, a small little "Thunk" sound emitting from the sprawled man's noggin.

Oh how the author loved physical humour.

Authors comments: Said Godot'd be in it didn't I? I try not to dissapoint... myself, I try not to dissapoint myself...

ANYWAY!! This is the second, slightly longer chapter on TFAOZAU, which, if you say that quickly, it sounds like some sort of thai rice dish, or a breed of dog, but I digress, thank you my loyal one reader (I know who you are you crazy watcher XD ) I'll admit, you are one of the reasons I actually did a second chapter!! Damn you, now I need to make up a storyline!!

Naw, loves to everyone, sorry this took so long to get up, but I now work bizarro shift at my workplace and the boss is a wierdo, so it has taken this long, not to mention the fact of life got in the way, curse it.

But yes, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll get started on the 3rd... once i figure out what's gonna go in it... (Yes, there actually is a story to this)


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